Okay, I know it is technically AFTER Thanksgiving, but I had a very busy week of interviews, bad Internet connections and stuffing my face. So, I thought I would push back my Official Thanksgiving Blog until Cyber Monday, when everyone is trawling the interwebs anyhow, in search of a good deal.
Today, I've decided to make a list of things I'm thankful for in the spirit of the holiday. Brace yourselves:
1. My family. Every time I go to a family function, I am reminded why I love my family so much. They are wonderful, warm, loving, funny people who make a mean turkey (and gravy, stuffing, potatoes, rolls, noodles, sweet potato casserole, devilled eggs, roasted chestnuts, no-bake cookies and many more dishes too numerous to mention.) Every year we all bring less food and more seems to show up. It has become a running joke that dinner is scheduled for one p.m. and we've NEVER eaten at one p.m. AND there is always too much food for the 30 of us to possibly consume.
2. My health. If the last month has taught me anything, it is that being healthy is really important and that if you are, you can bounce back from anything. So beyond a few (20) extra pounds and an irritating knee, I'm doing okay and I'm happy about that.
3. My doggies. I almost rescinded this when we picked them up from the kennel this morning, only to find that they had to be separated because of bad behavior. But frankly, I wouldn't expect any different. My brother and I had to be separated at the kennel when we were their age, so I guess the furry apples don't fall too far from the tree. And anyone who gets so excited when they see you that they pee is worth being thankful for.
4. My mom's pantry. She has the most deluxe snack food in the world and I love it. Gourmet candy, gelato, exotic cheese dips, etc. Of course, I gained four pounds while I was at her house, so it is more of a love/hate relationship with the pantry.
5. Board games. Jack and Mom bought a new board game that involved lots of shouting, gesticulating and singing. We played on Saturday until way past curfew (they go to bed at 8:30 or so) and we had the best time. Even if they beat the pants off us.
6. Alcohol. It makes everything better, doesn't it?
7. The hubs. He is a trooper. He doesn't blink when I suggest spending a week with my mom, five hours at dinner, screaming-singing board games, six a.m. wakeups so we can get on the road at a reasonable time, gelato for dinner, etc. He gets along with everyone, makes great conversation and even packs the suitcases when it is time to come home. He's a dream.
All in all, it was a wonderful week. I ate a ton of sushi, shot some guns, ate turkey, played board games and had a great time.
Hope your Thanksgiving was at least half as good.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Resume Tips
Okay, it is a down economy and I know lots of people are out looking for jobs, perhaps even some of my readers. So, as a service to you, I'd like to provide some of my tried-and-true resume tips, culled from the hundreds of resumes I've read and thrown out over the years. I'm currently in the process of hiring a few sales people for our business, so I'm freshly reminded of all the faux pas committed by those hungry to be hired.
1. Don't put your GPA on your resume UNLESS it is actually something to brag about. I received a resume today with the listing: "Blah Blah University, Pre-Med 2.00 GPA." Really? A whole 2.00? Wow. Nothing says "Hire me now!" like an unflinching C average. Just leave it off unless you can put the words Magna or Summa somewhere. Trust me, no one more than two years out of college cares what your GPA is, was or would ever be.
2. Under memberships and associations, things like the AAA are not really relevant. If anyone can be a part for a $35 membership, and if they provide 24-hour roadside assistance, these might be "memberships" you can leave off. This includes Sam's Club, Direct Buy and the Hair Club for Men.
3. A related note: membership in political or quasi-political organizations might also be the wrong thing to put on a resume. First impressions are important and no matter the political leanings of the interviewer, membership in organizations like the NRA or NOW could be a little inflammatory....I'm just saying. We all have stereotypes in mind when we hear these abbreviations, and they come right to the forefront when splashed on a resume in black and white. By all means, wear your "You'll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands" or "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" t-shirt to the company picnic, but only after you've been hired.
4. Don't ever use the word "penetrate" on a resume. Bleah. Here, I'll use it in a sentence just so you can understand the full horror: Acquired and penetrated new customers, resulting in 15% increase in business. Are you a prostitute? A male prostitute? Because that is the only time you should be penetrating customers. Well, I guess if you are an assassin, but you get my point.
5. Don't refer to the person interviewing you by their first name unless they give you permission. I receive so many emails starting "Dear Lacy." No. I am Ms. Coutsoftides or Mrs. Coutsoftides, if you are feeling frisky and know that I'm married. I'll give you permission to call me Lacy eventually, but don't assume I like you well enough to do it out of the gate.
So here's hoping these tips help you in your job hunt. Oh, and if you want to sell sea and air freight, drop me a line. I'd be happy to talk to you....if you'll just send me a resume.
1. Don't put your GPA on your resume UNLESS it is actually something to brag about. I received a resume today with the listing: "Blah Blah University, Pre-Med 2.00 GPA." Really? A whole 2.00? Wow. Nothing says "Hire me now!" like an unflinching C average. Just leave it off unless you can put the words Magna or Summa somewhere. Trust me, no one more than two years out of college cares what your GPA is, was or would ever be.
2. Under memberships and associations, things like the AAA are not really relevant. If anyone can be a part for a $35 membership, and if they provide 24-hour roadside assistance, these might be "memberships" you can leave off. This includes Sam's Club, Direct Buy and the Hair Club for Men.
3. A related note: membership in political or quasi-political organizations might also be the wrong thing to put on a resume. First impressions are important and no matter the political leanings of the interviewer, membership in organizations like the NRA or NOW could be a little inflammatory....I'm just saying. We all have stereotypes in mind when we hear these abbreviations, and they come right to the forefront when splashed on a resume in black and white. By all means, wear your "You'll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands" or "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" t-shirt to the company picnic, but only after you've been hired.
4. Don't ever use the word "penetrate" on a resume. Bleah. Here, I'll use it in a sentence just so you can understand the full horror: Acquired and penetrated new customers, resulting in 15% increase in business. Are you a prostitute? A male prostitute? Because that is the only time you should be penetrating customers. Well, I guess if you are an assassin, but you get my point.
5. Don't refer to the person interviewing you by their first name unless they give you permission. I receive so many emails starting "Dear Lacy." No. I am Ms. Coutsoftides or Mrs. Coutsoftides, if you are feeling frisky and know that I'm married. I'll give you permission to call me Lacy eventually, but don't assume I like you well enough to do it out of the gate.
So here's hoping these tips help you in your job hunt. Oh, and if you want to sell sea and air freight, drop me a line. I'd be happy to talk to you....if you'll just send me a resume.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Tales from the Home Office
Working from home definitely has its advantages. I wear giant pink fuzzy slippers all day, there is no commute (which means I get up at seven every day instead of six, which is so wonderful I can hardly express it), and I get to pick the music playing over the sound system (unless Tony is in a country and western mood, which I tolerate once a week, tops).
However, there are a few pitfalls.
1. Weight management. The fridge is way too close. If you get hungry or have a snack attack, you can just waltz to the kitchen and find any number of snacks, free and there for the eating. This has made grocery shopping a little more strategic - basically, I don't purchase snack foods, ever. Protein, fruit, vegetables and that's it. The last time Tony and I had a decent snack, it was at my mom's house, where she lives by the opposite creed - she doesn't cook, so all she has is snack food. Her kitchen is a minefield of cookies, chips and cheese.
2. My dog. I love him, he makes me smile, having him sleep at my feet while I'm working is wonderful and sweet. What isn't wonderful and sweet is that he's figured out that every time Tony or I get on the phone, if he stands next to our chair and barks, we'll pet him to get him to shut up. So we are petting defensively most of the day. Oh, and he's slowly shredding the leather arm on Tony's chair with his little toenails. (It is one of our dining-room chairs that cost an obscene amount of money back when we had money.) Oh, and the big smelly dog just licked the small of my back and I can guarantee you THAT never happened at the office.
3. Lunch dates. Eating hot dogs at the kitchen island with Tony is about as lunch date-y as I get. I used to have weekly lunches with the ladies I worked with, both in my office days and my cosmetics days. Now, I heat up some leftovers and scarf them down with one eye on my Blackberry and one ear to the phone in the office down the hall. Not exactly the glamorous life of a company president I'd envisioned.
4. The bathroom. I used to be able to use the restroom in peace when I worked in an office. No furry beasts followed me in, only to want to sit on my lap or claw at my exposed legs. No co-worker ever ignored me for three solid hours, only to decide that the minute I left to take a tinky break was the only time he could possibly talk to me. It doesn't help that the half-bath is adjacent to the office, so he can shout from his desk to the toilet with ease. Bleah.
But, I can't complain too much. I have a fantastic view. (I took the desk next to the window overlooking the lake.) I can go upstairs and watch TV when I get a break. I can go to work with wet hair and no one says anything. I get to work with my best friend every day - and he totally understands when I need a Panera Bread sanity lunch. Which I do today!
However, there are a few pitfalls.
1. Weight management. The fridge is way too close. If you get hungry or have a snack attack, you can just waltz to the kitchen and find any number of snacks, free and there for the eating. This has made grocery shopping a little more strategic - basically, I don't purchase snack foods, ever. Protein, fruit, vegetables and that's it. The last time Tony and I had a decent snack, it was at my mom's house, where she lives by the opposite creed - she doesn't cook, so all she has is snack food. Her kitchen is a minefield of cookies, chips and cheese.
2. My dog. I love him, he makes me smile, having him sleep at my feet while I'm working is wonderful and sweet. What isn't wonderful and sweet is that he's figured out that every time Tony or I get on the phone, if he stands next to our chair and barks, we'll pet him to get him to shut up. So we are petting defensively most of the day. Oh, and he's slowly shredding the leather arm on Tony's chair with his little toenails. (It is one of our dining-room chairs that cost an obscene amount of money back when we had money.) Oh, and the big smelly dog just licked the small of my back and I can guarantee you THAT never happened at the office.
3. Lunch dates. Eating hot dogs at the kitchen island with Tony is about as lunch date-y as I get. I used to have weekly lunches with the ladies I worked with, both in my office days and my cosmetics days. Now, I heat up some leftovers and scarf them down with one eye on my Blackberry and one ear to the phone in the office down the hall. Not exactly the glamorous life of a company president I'd envisioned.
4. The bathroom. I used to be able to use the restroom in peace when I worked in an office. No furry beasts followed me in, only to want to sit on my lap or claw at my exposed legs. No co-worker ever ignored me for three solid hours, only to decide that the minute I left to take a tinky break was the only time he could possibly talk to me. It doesn't help that the half-bath is adjacent to the office, so he can shout from his desk to the toilet with ease. Bleah.
But, I can't complain too much. I have a fantastic view. (I took the desk next to the window overlooking the lake.) I can go upstairs and watch TV when I get a break. I can go to work with wet hair and no one says anything. I get to work with my best friend every day - and he totally understands when I need a Panera Bread sanity lunch. Which I do today!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Thank You.
As you know, the last week and a half have been very difficult. There have been buckets of tears, lots of naps and several prescription medications that make me want to carve my stomach out and never eat again. At many points, I just wanted to pretend the previous three months had never happened.
But the entire experience became bittersweet when I told all of you about what had happened. The floodgates opened and I realized that, far from being alone, I was surrounded by women (and their partners) who had been through the same situation and were unbelievably generous in sharing their experiences and knowledge with me. Without these incredible, strong and compassionate people, Tony and I never would have made it through this.
The cards, emails and Facebook messages were all different, but held the same theme - I've been there, it hurt like hell, but I got through it and you can, too. One woman reassured me that having a miscarriage was, for her, much more painful and frightening than actually giving birth (a fear that I had been holding without actually acknowledging). Another expressed so eloquently how it felt to put all the maternity clothes and baby books away and know that the months would continue to tick by but at the end, I wouldn't have a baby. The writing was beautiful, sad, impassioned and sometimes angry, which is what made it perfect.
And even though my first instinct was to throw everything that reminded me of this experience away, I'm keeping all of it. Because even though it hurts to look at it, I know that in the future, whenever I feel alone or abandoned, I will be able to look at this outpouring of good will and know that there are people out there who care about me.
I'm also slowly coming back to myself. I've gotten dressed the last few days, gone to the grocery store, even had dinner at the home of dear friends who tolerated me talking way too much about the miscarriage without stopping or judging me. Am I completely better? No. Another friend said it best - you are never really over this experience until you get pregnant again, successfully. So I have many months until I feel whole again. But for now, I'll settle for being able to see a commercial on TV with a baby in it and not sob for an hour after.
But the entire experience became bittersweet when I told all of you about what had happened. The floodgates opened and I realized that, far from being alone, I was surrounded by women (and their partners) who had been through the same situation and were unbelievably generous in sharing their experiences and knowledge with me. Without these incredible, strong and compassionate people, Tony and I never would have made it through this.
The cards, emails and Facebook messages were all different, but held the same theme - I've been there, it hurt like hell, but I got through it and you can, too. One woman reassured me that having a miscarriage was, for her, much more painful and frightening than actually giving birth (a fear that I had been holding without actually acknowledging). Another expressed so eloquently how it felt to put all the maternity clothes and baby books away and know that the months would continue to tick by but at the end, I wouldn't have a baby. The writing was beautiful, sad, impassioned and sometimes angry, which is what made it perfect.
And even though my first instinct was to throw everything that reminded me of this experience away, I'm keeping all of it. Because even though it hurts to look at it, I know that in the future, whenever I feel alone or abandoned, I will be able to look at this outpouring of good will and know that there are people out there who care about me.
I'm also slowly coming back to myself. I've gotten dressed the last few days, gone to the grocery store, even had dinner at the home of dear friends who tolerated me talking way too much about the miscarriage without stopping or judging me. Am I completely better? No. Another friend said it best - you are never really over this experience until you get pregnant again, successfully. So I have many months until I feel whole again. But for now, I'll settle for being able to see a commercial on TV with a baby in it and not sob for an hour after.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Bad news.
The past five days have been the longest and most terrible of my life. And for those of you who know me well, you'll know that I've had some pretty terrible days before.
Tony and I lost the baby this weekend.
And I know how it seems to post this on the blog, but we were foolish enough to tell everyone we knew and some strangers, so this seems the most expeditious way to get this over with, like taking off a band-aid. Writing hundreds of personal emails right now would take emotional reserves I don't have.
We went out of town on a vacation this weekend, some long-planned fun in the sun before really cracking down on work and the holidays. We spent most of the weekend making frantic phone calls to the emergency line at the nurse-midwifery practice and all day Saturday in a strange hospital in a strange state, waiting for them to tell us what I already knew instinctively: we were having a miscarriage. I didn't think it was possible to cry for five hours straight, but I did.
After that, we returned to our hotel room, ordered pizza and stared at the wall. We watched bad HBO movies and didn't really talk a whole lot. I compulsively cleaned the room, ate half a pizza and an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's and felt humiliated by the fact that we'd spent the last six weeks telling everyone we knew a secret that we should have kept and that now we'd have to spend at least six more weeks making sure everyone knew and keeping ourselves together while people asked about the baby.
Sunday we endured the agony of killing eight hours in a strange city (I'd booked a late flight to allow for more sightseeing which turned into a nightmare) and then flying home coach while I was in terrible pain and bursting into tears at the slightest provocation. I only saw Tony cry once, and that was while on the phone with his mother. Funny how talking to mom allows you to forget being strong and go ahead and be emotional.
The last two days have been a blur of doctor's visits and trips to the hospital. Things didn't go well and I ended up in the hospital this morning at 1 a.m. We got home today around 10:30, completely exhausted physically and emotionally. To be the only person walking out of the birthing center without a baby was wrenching.
Out of all of this, I've learned a few things:
My capacity for pain is much higher than I thought. My capacity for incompetence while in pain is just as low as I thought.
Tony is an incredible husband. He has been a trooper through all of this, often the only person in the room with me for hours and hours while I struggled with pain and heartbreak and he struggled with me. Without him, I'd feel horribly alone. His ability to be tough for me and to save his tears for when he knew I was calm enough to handle them shows every ounce of the maturity he has. He kept it together for me when he was just as sad and terrified as I was.
When they tell you to wait until 13 weeks to tell everyone, do it. The feeling of losing a baby is enough of a horror show without the additional pain of having to tell everyone or try not to make other people feel bad when they ask how things are.
With that all said, I'm going to take a break from blogging for a little while. I have to heal my heart and my body, and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do from here.
Tony and I lost the baby this weekend.
And I know how it seems to post this on the blog, but we were foolish enough to tell everyone we knew and some strangers, so this seems the most expeditious way to get this over with, like taking off a band-aid. Writing hundreds of personal emails right now would take emotional reserves I don't have.
We went out of town on a vacation this weekend, some long-planned fun in the sun before really cracking down on work and the holidays. We spent most of the weekend making frantic phone calls to the emergency line at the nurse-midwifery practice and all day Saturday in a strange hospital in a strange state, waiting for them to tell us what I already knew instinctively: we were having a miscarriage. I didn't think it was possible to cry for five hours straight, but I did.
After that, we returned to our hotel room, ordered pizza and stared at the wall. We watched bad HBO movies and didn't really talk a whole lot. I compulsively cleaned the room, ate half a pizza and an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's and felt humiliated by the fact that we'd spent the last six weeks telling everyone we knew a secret that we should have kept and that now we'd have to spend at least six more weeks making sure everyone knew and keeping ourselves together while people asked about the baby.
Sunday we endured the agony of killing eight hours in a strange city (I'd booked a late flight to allow for more sightseeing which turned into a nightmare) and then flying home coach while I was in terrible pain and bursting into tears at the slightest provocation. I only saw Tony cry once, and that was while on the phone with his mother. Funny how talking to mom allows you to forget being strong and go ahead and be emotional.
The last two days have been a blur of doctor's visits and trips to the hospital. Things didn't go well and I ended up in the hospital this morning at 1 a.m. We got home today around 10:30, completely exhausted physically and emotionally. To be the only person walking out of the birthing center without a baby was wrenching.
Out of all of this, I've learned a few things:
My capacity for pain is much higher than I thought. My capacity for incompetence while in pain is just as low as I thought.
Tony is an incredible husband. He has been a trooper through all of this, often the only person in the room with me for hours and hours while I struggled with pain and heartbreak and he struggled with me. Without him, I'd feel horribly alone. His ability to be tough for me and to save his tears for when he knew I was calm enough to handle them shows every ounce of the maturity he has. He kept it together for me when he was just as sad and terrified as I was.
When they tell you to wait until 13 weeks to tell everyone, do it. The feeling of losing a baby is enough of a horror show without the additional pain of having to tell everyone or try not to make other people feel bad when they ask how things are.
With that all said, I'm going to take a break from blogging for a little while. I have to heal my heart and my body, and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do from here.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
It's a marathon, not a sprint
Lately I've been drinking a lot. Especially in the morning.
My morning routine now consists of hearing the alarm, ignoring the alarm, rolling out of bed about 45 minutes after the alarm goes off, walking/jogging on the treadmill for 30 minutes and then heading downstairs to eat. And drink.
You see, I find myself with a lot more nutritional needs lately, and some of them can only be met through the ingestion of massive quantities of fluids. Which is great at the time and terrible for the next 12 hours, when I'm dashing to the bathroom every 30 minutes. (I nearly peed my pants in Sam's Club this week because I forgot how long it takes to get from the frozen foods to the bathrooms up front. I ended up ditching my cart and sprinting. I'm sure it looked super sophisticated. Especially when I body-checked someone's grandma out of the way in front of the pharmacy.)
My breakfast beverage lineup is the most impressive. I have a 30-ounce bottle of water while I'm working out, but it doesn't always get finished, so I have to bring that down to breakfast with me. When I get down there, I have a mug of hot water with lemon juice (keeps the digestive tract in line, from what I've read). Then, I have a big glass of milk and half a cup of coffee with my bowl of oatmeal and my banana (this is the only reliably healthy meal I eat all day, so I really go for it.) Oftentimes, the coffee and my water bottle have to follow me around for another hour or so, until the coffee has gone cold and the water warm. I haven't finished a full cup of coffee in six weeks.
The other day, I complained because Tony finished his breakfast (oatmeal and no beverage - he has a weird rule about not drinking while he eats) and started to get up before I'd even finished my hot water and lemon. He looked at me and said, "I'm not sticking around for this! It's not breakfast, it's an endurance test!"
And he's right. I try really hard to front-load my day with nutrition because I know the rest of my day might go like yesterday, where I had two hot dogs for lunch and two Soft Taco Supremes for dinner. Not exactly the fully organic health-food experience I envisioned for myself when I got pregnant. Turns out I don't like salad that much. Who knew? Recently, I've given in and started chugging at least one glass of V-8 every day, just to try to make up for my nutritional deficiencies. I feel healthier already.
But mostly, I drink a lot because food doesn't taste that good to me right now. I used to be a person who got food cravings at the drop of a hat and dreamt of food at night. Now, I think about my options and mostly say, "Meh." The last meal I remember that was really tasty was a burger and fries at Five Guys. That was transcendent. But even thinking about that doesn't make my mouth water. I get about five bites into any meal and think, "Okay, that's enough. I'm done." I even made a really good pork roast the other day (the first serious cooking I've done in months) and I could only eat a little bit. Which left three pounds of pork roast for Tony. He wasn't complaining.
Drinking my calories and nutrients just seems easier. So I just keep a glass of something with me all day and when I'm feeling nutrient-deprived, I take a drink. Seems to work. And, as I was sprinting through Sam's, I saw some adult diapers, so that might solve the bladder issue.
Now if I can just find a way to puree a pork roast, I'd be set.
My morning routine now consists of hearing the alarm, ignoring the alarm, rolling out of bed about 45 minutes after the alarm goes off, walking/jogging on the treadmill for 30 minutes and then heading downstairs to eat. And drink.
You see, I find myself with a lot more nutritional needs lately, and some of them can only be met through the ingestion of massive quantities of fluids. Which is great at the time and terrible for the next 12 hours, when I'm dashing to the bathroom every 30 minutes. (I nearly peed my pants in Sam's Club this week because I forgot how long it takes to get from the frozen foods to the bathrooms up front. I ended up ditching my cart and sprinting. I'm sure it looked super sophisticated. Especially when I body-checked someone's grandma out of the way in front of the pharmacy.)
My breakfast beverage lineup is the most impressive. I have a 30-ounce bottle of water while I'm working out, but it doesn't always get finished, so I have to bring that down to breakfast with me. When I get down there, I have a mug of hot water with lemon juice (keeps the digestive tract in line, from what I've read). Then, I have a big glass of milk and half a cup of coffee with my bowl of oatmeal and my banana (this is the only reliably healthy meal I eat all day, so I really go for it.) Oftentimes, the coffee and my water bottle have to follow me around for another hour or so, until the coffee has gone cold and the water warm. I haven't finished a full cup of coffee in six weeks.
The other day, I complained because Tony finished his breakfast (oatmeal and no beverage - he has a weird rule about not drinking while he eats) and started to get up before I'd even finished my hot water and lemon. He looked at me and said, "I'm not sticking around for this! It's not breakfast, it's an endurance test!"
And he's right. I try really hard to front-load my day with nutrition because I know the rest of my day might go like yesterday, where I had two hot dogs for lunch and two Soft Taco Supremes for dinner. Not exactly the fully organic health-food experience I envisioned for myself when I got pregnant. Turns out I don't like salad that much. Who knew? Recently, I've given in and started chugging at least one glass of V-8 every day, just to try to make up for my nutritional deficiencies. I feel healthier already.
But mostly, I drink a lot because food doesn't taste that good to me right now. I used to be a person who got food cravings at the drop of a hat and dreamt of food at night. Now, I think about my options and mostly say, "Meh." The last meal I remember that was really tasty was a burger and fries at Five Guys. That was transcendent. But even thinking about that doesn't make my mouth water. I get about five bites into any meal and think, "Okay, that's enough. I'm done." I even made a really good pork roast the other day (the first serious cooking I've done in months) and I could only eat a little bit. Which left three pounds of pork roast for Tony. He wasn't complaining.
Drinking my calories and nutrients just seems easier. So I just keep a glass of something with me all day and when I'm feeling nutrient-deprived, I take a drink. Seems to work. And, as I was sprinting through Sam's, I saw some adult diapers, so that might solve the bladder issue.
Now if I can just find a way to puree a pork roast, I'd be set.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Resolutions...
Okay, I know it's not January, but it is time for some resolutions. Let's call them my November Resolutions.
I've been wallowing around a bit lately, not knowing what to do with myself or how to order my days. The business is starting to bustle, but I can still get my work done in about an hour or two every day. In the future, I'm sure I'll be swamped, but right now, I have a lot of free time.
Mostly, I've been spending that watching "Man vs. Food" on the Travel Channel. Not perhaps the best use of my time. I have, however, gained a new appreciation for how hard it is to eat and digest two gallons of ice cream in less than an hour. (That has always been a goal of mine.)
So last night I made some resolutions. (Our motto here is "Why wait until January to make unreasonable goals that you'll try to reach for a week and a half and then ignore in disappointment the rest of the year?")
So here's the list:
1. I will do the dishes every day (this was Tony's job, but I'm feeling generous.)
a. I will not hand-wash dishes. That is gross. Tony can still do that.
b. Basically, I will load and unload the dishwasher every day.
2. I will fold the laundry within 24 hours of it leaving the dryer. I will put my laundry away immediately after that. Tony's laundry will sit on the kitchen table until such time that he puts it away. I'm his wife, not his mom.
a. I will no longer get dressed in the laundry room.
b. I will no longer sprint through the house in my underwear, hoping the neighbors don't see me on my way to getting dressed in the laundry room.
3. I will exercise for 30 minutes every day.
a. Even if this is just 30 minutes of very slow walking on the treadmill while I clutch my stomach in nausea.
b. Except Sunday, which I reserve as my "lazy day."
4. I will put some kind of real clothing (not workout clothes) and makeup on every day. If I don't have clothes that fit, I will manufacture some with rubber bands and prayer. (If you've ever been pregnant, you will understand this.) Zipping is optional at this point.
a. Except Sunday. See above.
b. Some days, moisturizer counts as "makeup."
5. I will eat at least five servings of fruit and vegetables every day. I don't want this baby born with scurvy.
a. Sometimes, an Edy's Real Fruit frozen treat will just have to count as a "fruit."
b. Ditto V-8 juice as a "vegetable."
6. No matter how much it scares me, I will increase my caloric intake when I reach the second trimester.
a. Tony has to resolve to take back any comments he has made about divorcing me if I gain too much weight.
b. My mom isn't allowed to mention calories, weight, fat or her own ridiculous pre- and post-pregnancy weights (oh, you know, like 100 pounds, soaking wet) in my presence.
7. I will suck it up and grocery shop on my own. (This is a major anxiety trigger for me, for some reason.)
a. I am allowed two panic calls to Tony and/or my mother per shopping trip.
b. I reserve the right to leave a full shopping cart in the store and run screaming to my car at any point.
8. At 14 weeks, I will stop taking my daily nap. The time that I was using for that I will fill with constructive baby preparations. Like watching "Man vs. Food."
a. I reserve the right to re-introduce the nap at any time.
b. I also reserve the right to attempt to eat two gallons of ice cream at any point. See point 6.
So that's what I have so far. We'll have to wait and see how it all works out, but I'm feeling optimistic. This morning, I've already exercised, folded laundry, dressed myself and done the dishes. Frankly, I feel like Superwoman. Tomorrow, I probably won't get out of bed.
I've been wallowing around a bit lately, not knowing what to do with myself or how to order my days. The business is starting to bustle, but I can still get my work done in about an hour or two every day. In the future, I'm sure I'll be swamped, but right now, I have a lot of free time.
Mostly, I've been spending that watching "Man vs. Food" on the Travel Channel. Not perhaps the best use of my time. I have, however, gained a new appreciation for how hard it is to eat and digest two gallons of ice cream in less than an hour. (That has always been a goal of mine.)
So last night I made some resolutions. (Our motto here is "Why wait until January to make unreasonable goals that you'll try to reach for a week and a half and then ignore in disappointment the rest of the year?")
So here's the list:
1. I will do the dishes every day (this was Tony's job, but I'm feeling generous.)
a. I will not hand-wash dishes. That is gross. Tony can still do that.
b. Basically, I will load and unload the dishwasher every day.
2. I will fold the laundry within 24 hours of it leaving the dryer. I will put my laundry away immediately after that. Tony's laundry will sit on the kitchen table until such time that he puts it away. I'm his wife, not his mom.
a. I will no longer get dressed in the laundry room.
b. I will no longer sprint through the house in my underwear, hoping the neighbors don't see me on my way to getting dressed in the laundry room.
3. I will exercise for 30 minutes every day.
a. Even if this is just 30 minutes of very slow walking on the treadmill while I clutch my stomach in nausea.
b. Except Sunday, which I reserve as my "lazy day."
4. I will put some kind of real clothing (not workout clothes) and makeup on every day. If I don't have clothes that fit, I will manufacture some with rubber bands and prayer. (If you've ever been pregnant, you will understand this.) Zipping is optional at this point.
a. Except Sunday. See above.
b. Some days, moisturizer counts as "makeup."
5. I will eat at least five servings of fruit and vegetables every day. I don't want this baby born with scurvy.
a. Sometimes, an Edy's Real Fruit frozen treat will just have to count as a "fruit."
b. Ditto V-8 juice as a "vegetable."
6. No matter how much it scares me, I will increase my caloric intake when I reach the second trimester.
a. Tony has to resolve to take back any comments he has made about divorcing me if I gain too much weight.
b. My mom isn't allowed to mention calories, weight, fat or her own ridiculous pre- and post-pregnancy weights (oh, you know, like 100 pounds, soaking wet) in my presence.
7. I will suck it up and grocery shop on my own. (This is a major anxiety trigger for me, for some reason.)
a. I am allowed two panic calls to Tony and/or my mother per shopping trip.
b. I reserve the right to leave a full shopping cart in the store and run screaming to my car at any point.
8. At 14 weeks, I will stop taking my daily nap. The time that I was using for that I will fill with constructive baby preparations. Like watching "Man vs. Food."
a. I reserve the right to re-introduce the nap at any time.
b. I also reserve the right to attempt to eat two gallons of ice cream at any point. See point 6.
So that's what I have so far. We'll have to wait and see how it all works out, but I'm feeling optimistic. This morning, I've already exercised, folded laundry, dressed myself and done the dishes. Frankly, I feel like Superwoman. Tomorrow, I probably won't get out of bed.
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